


Not Anyone's Queen

by bitchslaplouis



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Affectionate Zayn, Aphrodite - Freeform, Bisexual Character, Bisexual Eleanor, Bisexual Louis, F/M, Goddess of Love - Freeform, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Persephone - Freeform, Queen of the Underworld, fancy party, gala - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-14 04:59:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5730376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitchslaplouis/pseuds/bitchslaplouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The chance to play princess... be beautiful and charming and adored for just a night... A glass of wine in one hand and a beautiful man in another is all it takes to pretend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Gala

Fancy dress was like wild animals: beautiful to look at and admire, but not something you ever wanted to go near. You loved fashion magazines and blogs but would you ever put on a fancy evening gown and walk a red carpet and feel like a queen with cameras flashing? Of course not. That’s what you always assumed. But here you were, in your early twenties, dressed in a gorgeous pale blue sheath dress, your hair twisted up elegantly with crystal pins, a heavy aquamarine necklace hanging around your neck, and matching shoes finally pushing you up to average height.

“How…” You whispered to your quizzical expression in the mirror. There was a simple answer, of course: one of your high school friends, Eleanor, had done very well in college and she invited you to be her date for a fundraiser gala. How could you say no to that? She even picked you up in a limo. She was dressed in a mint green empire waist gown, and she mourned a little over the slight clash of your too close colors.

“Girl, we look hot as hell tonight,” she purred, wrapping you up in her arms. After tossing a couple jokes around, you two hopped into the limo, joining another couple: a Middle Eastern man with glossy, dark hair and neatly trimmed scruff and a gorgeous blonde whose arms, bared in her body-hugging black evening gown, were sparingly tattooed.

“This is Zayn, and his fiancée, Perrie. He donated a lot of money to the foundation and earned himself a nice, big VIP invitation,” El said, grinning across at Zayn. He gave a tiny smile back, slinging his arm over Perrie’s shoulders.

“Nah, that was all Perrie. She said I had to donate to this group, and then she said we had to come to this,” Zayn shifted the attention to his lovely fiancée.

“We’re… rich. We both make a lot of money. And I like to give back. We don’t need it all.” The car ride was short and although the rest of it was quiet, it didn’t get quiet enough to be awkward. You were awestruck when you exited the limo. Although there wasn’t a literal red carpet, this gala was a big deal and you and El did walk inside with cameras flashing left and right.

The gala. There were well-dressed people all over (even the servers were clad in fine clothes), snacking on tiny little fancy foods with large herb garnishes and talking softly over the string quartet set up in the corner of the stage. A server immediately appeared at your side, her long hair cascading down her back but carefully pinned away from her face, and handed you a glass of red wine. El asked for white, and another server appeared with a dry white for her.

“Lewis!” El shouted, her voice carrying over the polite conversation, waving her free hand above her head and grinning from ear to ear. A clean boy appeared out of the crowd, his hair gelled up and his suit buttoned to his neck but without a tie. You couldn’t believe he was any older than twenty, his face was just so soft and young. His only hard feature was the sharp jut of his cheekbones, poking out of his gentle face, looking sharp enough to bloody yourself on. He grinned wide when he spotted El and rushed over, no drink in his hand to hinder him, and embraced her.

“Little Ellie. How are you?” He asked, his warm tone enveloping you. You shook your head, turning away and trying to clear it. Sure, it had been a long time since you had been romantically involved with anyone, but did it really only take one pretty faced boy to shake you up? “And who is this? Have you been holding out on me, El?

“This is a close friend from high school, Y/N. She’s my date,” El beamed at you, pulling you back in but being careful of your drink. “This is Louis. He and I dated for a long time, but it’s all ancient history now. We’re besties these days.”

“You are gorgeous.” Louis’ eyes grazed over you, causing a slow heat to spread over your chest and face. You sipped your wine quietly, trying not to make eye contact with him. El laughed, a flirty edge creeping in as she hooked her arm through yours. Louis made a very pointed look at that before heaving a deep, theatrical sigh. “How is it that you are always attached to the most attractive person in the room?”

“What are you accusing me of, Lewis?” El teased, giving her flirty eyes to him.

“Well… First me, now this perfect example of young and beautiful. You’ve clearly got an eye for aesthetic appeal.” Louis spoke with a friendly level of snark. The break up must have gone well because they treated each other like best friends.

“Zayn’s another good example of that.” Louis and El both seemed surprised to hear you speak up, but you were sick of Louis objectifying you. It was time to send him spinning.

“Young Aphrodite speaks!” He shouted in delight. “Please do continue.”

“Zayn is gorgeous.” You shrugged. “How’d you even meet him, El?”

“Zayn? That pretentious, tattooed, self-absorbed, will-less artist? You think he’s hot?” Louis seemed bitter, giving you a rather pretentious look himself.

“No, not hot. Gorgeous. There’s a difference.” He gave a bit of an impressed smile, but you turned away. No matter how beautiful he was, you were not letting him think he had any effect on you.

“Lou, shut up.” The tone of finality in her voice actually made Louis shut his mouth. “I met Zayn through Louis. They’re best friends. Although I seriously doubt the whole platonic thing sometimes.” As if to illustrate her point, Zayn approached Louis from behind, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his head on his shoulder.

“You’re not helping me right now, love,” Louis murmured, nuzzling Zayn’s face.

“So I’m self-absorbed, huh? Without will?” Zayn retorted, fondling Louis’ nipples through his white tuxedo shirt.

“I love you,” Louis answered, turning his puppy dog eyes on Zayn, who snorted and moved to stand next to you, grinning and shaking his head.

“So how are you enjoying yourself tonight?” Zayn asked, turning to you, his smile a little wider and more genuine now than it had been in the limo. He’d had a couple glasses of wine and was now carrying a champagne flute.

“The wine is excellent,” You answered, a slow smile stretching over your face. You finished your first glass and a server almost immediately appeared to take it from you and offer you a new one. You declined. “Excuse me.” You stepped back from the group and a server directed you to the restrooms. When you returned to the where the group had been, Louis was standing alone, a glass of red wine in his hand as he nonchalantly searched the crowd.

“There’s our Aphrodite,” Louis crowed, giving you a sly smile. You gritted your teeth, trying not to look unladylike and cross your arms. You would have flipped your hair, but your elegant updo prevented that.

“Two things,” you said, holding up two fingers in his face. “One, I am not anyone’s anything. And two, if I were a modern incarnation of any Greek goddess, I wouldn’t be Aphrodite. I’d be Hestia. Or Persephone.”

“Wife of Hades, huh?” Louis challenged, quirking an eyebrow.

“No. Queen of Hell.” You laughed at a little at the expression of shock on his face. He stared at you for a long time, his face deliberating and interested.

“I like you, Queen of Hell,” he finally said, grinning widely. For the first time that night, you allowed yourself to make eye contact with him and you realized that his huge, clear eyes were the exact color of your dress, a stormy, pale grey-blue. His analytical gaze held you. “Here. I got this for you.” He held out the glass of wine, all his snarkiness disappearing from his expression and kindness replacing it.

But as you went to take it, a belligerently drunk man knocked into Louis from behind, causing him to throw the glass of red wine all over your beautiful and expensive dress. The spill hit you right above the bust and cascaded down your front on the inside and the outside. Everyone around you two fell silent and you stood there, covered in wine, for a solid ten seconds before reacting. Louis stared at you, horrified, and you ran, picking up your skirts and going full Cinderella mode. As soon as you got outside, it occurred to you that you had no way to get out of there, no car, no money for a taxi. You stood about five feet away from the valet, unable to go back inside, unable to leave, trying to do anything to keep yourself from crying. Louis rushed out after you, his face red, and nearly collided with you next to the valet.

“Let me take you home,” he begged, his face reeking of shame and horror.

“No, I’ll… I don’t know, I just, no, okay? No,” You turned away from him. It wasn’t cold out that night but in a soaked dress and with a northerly wind, you were beginning to shiver. Louis took hold of your arm with a gentle hand and pulled you to face him.

“Please? I have a car. Let me help. Please.” With those puppy dog eyes trained on you, you couldn’t say no. He sent the valet after his car and took off his suit jacket to place it over your shoulders.

“No, you don’t—“ you tried to resist but he held it on you for a moment, making eye contact again.

“Please.” Your inability to resist a simple please from him was getting a little annoying. His eyes were captivating, hypnotizing—now that his rude and sarcastic demeanor was gone, your original impression of an innocent boy was seeming much more accurate. Finally, the valet pulled up in a little silver vintage Aston Martin convertible.

“That’s your car?” You gaped at it, absolutely awestruck.

“Yeah.” He held the door for you, gathering up the wine soaked fabric of your dress and making sure it didn’t get stuck in your door. You tried to hand him his jacket back but he refused to take it, starting the car. “Where do you live?” You fed him your address and settled back, allowing yourself to nestle into his jacket, which smelled strongly of him, like clean laundry and pine resin. The short ride left the two of you on your front step too soon.

“Thank you,” you said, removing his jacket again.

“Let me take you inside. Make sure you’re alright.” Louis wasn’t asking. He turned off the car and walked around to let you out, holding the jacket around your shoulders.

“I’m not going back to that gala,” You warned him, unlocking the front door of the apartment building and pausing in the doorway.

“I didn’t expect you to, Your Majesty,” He gave a small bow and held the front door to make sure you entered first.

“Your Majesty?” You asked, unsure of how far he was going with you. When he called the elevator, it seemed certain that he was riding all the way up with you.

“I don’t think the Queen of Hell would allow anyone to address her as anything but,” He explained. You smiled at him unwittingly and the elevator ride went quickly in a strangely companionable silence. You expected him to leave you at your front door but he wasn’t shaken so easily.

“You don’t have to come in,” You insisted, halting despite the stickiness of your drying dress. The thing was ruined—there was no way you could afford the expensive cleaning it would take. It cost you two months’ rent too…

“Look, Y/N. I know you don’t really like me; you just met me and I’ve ruined what has to be your favorite dress and I’ve been a huge asshole to you. But I want to make sure you’re okay. I wouldn’t feel right just leaving you here. Let me come inside. Please.” You saw another side of Louis just then. You’d seen his confident, snide business man, his playful, innocent young boy, and now you were seeing something else entirely. A determined, pained man, desperate to do what he felt was right.

“Okay.” You stood aside to let him in but he just gaped at you.

“Okay?” He seemed shocked that you were actually letting him in.

“Yeah, come on in.” He went in slowly like he expected you to kick him out any second. You showed him the living room and told him where he could find tea if he wanted and then went back to change and shower. You were quick, not bothering to wash your hair, just trying to get the sticky wine off of you. Plus, you didn’t want to leave Louis sitting around in your apartment alone for too long. After your shower, you dressed in ratty sweatpants and a clean shirt, leaving your hair loose and your jewelry on the bureau. When you emerged from your room, Louis was waiting in the kitchen with two cups of warm tea, his jacket thrown on the counter, his shirt untucked and the first three buttons undone.

“Wow.” Louis let out a low whistle when he caught sight of you, forcing you to stop and tug on your shirt a little. “Your majesty,” He said, bowing and handing you a cup.

“Thank you.” You stood with him, sipping your tea slowly, trying not to notice the way Louis’ arms strained against the fabric of his shirt, or the slight sweat spots on the front of his shirt over his breast, or the shape of his butt when he turned to grab some sugar for his tea.

“So…” Louis’ slow drawl turned your attention from his arms. “Tell me about yourself.”

And that’s how you two spent the next couple hours, standing in your kitchen, him leaning against the cupboard, you leaning against the sink, drinking an entire pot of green tea and talking about yourselves. After you told him about a freak incident when you calmed a raging pitbull, he called you Persephone for the last time that night. Around one in the morning, you overturned the teapot into the sink, setting it up to soak, and Louis gave a wide yawn and asked to use your bathroom before he headed out. After he left, you crashed, emotional turmoil leaving you absolutely exhausted.

You didn’t hear from Louis again for days. Tuesday night, when you got home from work, El was waiting for you in the lobby, signing for something at the front desk.

“You don’t live here, El,” you reminded her, laughing. She hugged you tight, apologizing for dragging you to the gala on Friday and placing the blame on herself for your ruined dress.

“I can get it fixed,” El promised, riding up the elevator with you and holding the long thin package. “I’ll get it clean or replaced.”

“No, don’t worry about it. It’s gone.” You explained to her that you must have thrown it out Friday night because it was gone when you woke up Saturday morning and the chunk of time between Louis leaving and you going to bed was a bit fuzzy. “Who’s this from?” You asked, nodding toward the package.

“No idea. There’s no tag,” El shook the box gently but it gave only a soft rustle. “Let’s open it and find out! Maybe you’ve got a secret admirer.” She waggled her eyebrows at you and you pushed her out of the elevator as the doors opened, rolling your eyes.

Once inside the apartment, you two headed into the living room where you tore open the box. The gift was wrapped in white tissue paper. El bounced excitedly next to you and had a full view of your expression of absolute flabbergast. Inside, sitting nestled carefully was your dress, clean and beautiful just like the day you’d originally bought it.

“Is that…?” El flattened in shock, all the excitement leaving her. A tiny scrap of paper fell out of the box and you picked it up, seeing the smooth but cramped handwriting.

“You’re a queen with or without it, but a queen deserves a beautiful gown. L”


	2. Call Me By My Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Give a guy a second chance! What the odds he would screw up so badly again?

“Just coffee! You don’t have to do anything else! Just meet him for a cup of coffee,” Eleanor pleaded, picking up the same line she’d been throwing at you since you had received the gift from Louis two weeks ago. El had made you call him and thank him immediately and he invited you for coffee sometime, whenever you were free. The invitation was left open, dangling, while you mulled it over. Two weeks now. El had seen him a couple times and every time she did, she came back begging you to meet with him. It’s not that you didn’t want to see him exactly, it’s just that… Well, luck didn’t seem to be in favor of you two.

“Fine. I’ll text him,” you conceded, sighing and digging your phone out of your purse. He texted back immediately and agreed to meet you tomorrow afternoon. “Are you happy now?”

“Yes! Oh, you’re not going to regret this!” You hoped she was right but you weren’t so sure.

The next day, at exactly two pm, you were at a café a couple blocks from your apartment which Louis had picked. Dressed nice but comfortable, you sat outside in the beautiful day, letting a breeze play with your hair as you ordered a cup of tea. You weren’t really a coffee person. Right as the server dropped off the tea, which had faint heat wisps rising from it, Louis joined you, seeming a little out of breath.

“I am sorry for being so late,” he said, dropping into the chair across from you and flashing the server an easy smile, asking for a cup of black tea. You checked your watch; it was only five after.

“You’re fine,” you answered, smiling. The server was back almost immediately with Louis’ cup, also steaming, and Louis, checking if you liked blueberries first (you did), ordered a plate of scones.

“Not really a coffee drinker?” Louis’ asked, glancing at your own cup.

“Coffee’s just nasty,” you responded, making a face. He laughed, a delighted, musical sound, and grinned, causing his cheeks to crinkle up toward his eyes and making his face glow with happiness. You felt your heart catch.

“Nobody actually likes coffee. Even the people that say they do are lying to themselves for the caffeine.” Louis’ nose crinkled up a little bit when he talked. It was adorable.

“I’ve always said that!” you cried, a little bit indignant. “Finally, someone else agrees.”

“It’d be a shame not to be agreeing with the Queen of the Underworld,” Louis remarked, a twinkle in his eye. You groaned a little.

“Not that again.”

“I have to say, even in pedestrian clothes, you look quite regal,” he said, looking at you over the rim of his cup. He’d seen you in your best and worst. What you were wearing now was just normal clothes.

“Louis…” you winced.

“Can I ask? Is there a King in your life?” His eyes lost the playful glint, the blue darkening just a little. His tone was still mostly jocular though.

“Me?” You laughed this time. “My building doesn’t allow pets, so no, no King.” Louis’ eyes met yours and he held your gaze for a long moment before giving you his gentle smile. Your heart swooped in your chest and you felt the heat in your cheeks as you looked down at your tea, starting to settle. The scones arrived and you and Louis each took one, you tearing it into little pieces before eating the pieces.

“So…” he cleared his throat, making you look back up at him. “The dress. Were they able to get out all of the stain?” You looked out on the street, noticing passersby, unable to hold his clear blue gaze.

“There was still a little tinge of pink on the inside of the bodice, but no one will ever see that. It’s immaculately clean, otherwise.” You forced yourself to meet his eyes. “It must have cost you a fortune. You really didn’t have to do that.”

“How else would I have gotten a way for you to call me?” He teased, making you blush again.

“So what has El spilled about me?” You asked, changing the subject before he had you rhubarb pink from your head to your toes.

“Absolutely nothing,” he said cheerily. “All I know about you is what you’ve told me.”

“Really?” You asked, raising your eyebrows.

“What was she said about me? Nothing good, I’m assuming.” His smile quirked up a little higher on one side. You remember the lecture you gave yourself the night of the gala: one pretty-faced boy was not allowed to shake you up. But the more you talked to him, the less he became one pretty-faced boy and more of something else entirely. Something new. Something you didn’t have a clue about.

“Nothing at all. Every time I asked, she just told me to call you back and find out for myself.” You finished your scone and pushed your plate away, smiling up at Louis as you did. If he could throw you off your game, you would do the same to him.

“So you asked about me?” He returned, grinning.

“Well, I was particularly curious about this beautiful man who insisted upon calling me the Queen of Hell, ruined my dress and paid to fix it, and drove a vintage Aston Martin. You sound like a character in a bad fanfiction: the bad boy who’s only good for that special girl.” You laughed and leaned back, relaxing into your chair and sipping your tea.

“I can promise you that I’m a little less flat than that,” he answered, grinning back. Your heart caught again but you didn’t let him see how much a simple grin affected you. You let your eyes flick quickly down his body, checking him out subtly enough that he might not know you wanted him to notice. Of course, that didn’t help your racing heart beat. He really was beautiful. In a pale blue button up that enhanced the color of his eyes, his forearms, decorated in artfully done tattoos, were well toned and very distracting. The little bit of chest showing at the top of his shirt revealed more tattoos. You wished he’d get up and go to the bathroom or something because you really wanted to see his butt in those white linen shorts. His calves were equally well toned. His body seemed like a slim, well-muscled machine that you were dying to get your hands on.

“Oh, I’m sure,” you answered, a slow smile creeping over your cheeks. You were rewarded by a slight flush to Louis’ cheeks. He noticed that your cup was nearly empty and his was as well so he took both inside to get some more tea. As he walked away, you very unsubtly checked out his behind and you were right; those shorts were too kind to that curvature. You groaned, loudly, and slumped back. You were in too deep now. You liked his butt and his personality. That only meant trouble. As you were mulling this over, your phone rang.

“So, how’s the date?” El asked.

“His butt, El, his butt!” You groaned, covering your face with one of your hands.

“Oh, I know,” she laughed. “Believe me, it’s even better out of those shorts. Wait. He is wearing the white shorts, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“He wears those when he wants to impress people. He knows how nice his ass is.”

“Well, I guess this is officially a date then…” You sighed, knowing El would catch exactly what you meant.

“You wore the blouse?!” She cried. Bingo.

“Yeah…”

“God, Y/N, do you like Louis?” she asked, her tone dead serious. Thankfully, Louis reappeared then.

“Louis’ back, bye!”

“Who was that?” Louis asked when he got close enough. Those shorts were kind to his front as well. You turned your phone upside down so you couldn’t see it lighting up with texts from El.

“El. Being herself. You know,” you answered, smiling. That’s when it happened. Louis tripped. Dead tripped over absolutely nothing and tossed two cups of steaming tea over you. Neither of you did anything for a solid minute as you sat there, covered in tea. You were in shock. You didn’t run this time though. That’s because Louis acted first.

“Fuck,” he swore, grabbing napkins and dabbing your white blouse carefully, a look of extreme frustration twisting his face. “I am so fucking sorry. I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Louis. Louis. Louis.” He finally stopped and you grabbed the napkins out of his hands. He was kneeling next to you so you pulled him to his feet as you stood. “It’s okay.” It wasn’t, actually. You loved this blouse and there was no way you were getting the tea out of it. Green, maybe, but Louis’ black tea was not budging.

“I can fix this,” he insisted. His eyes were so sad, so desperate, you felt your heart breaking.

“Okay?” You asked.

“Is there a laundromat close?”

“Yeah, like a block over on 2nd.”

“Let’s go.” Grabbing your hand and pulling you through the crowded sidewalks, he dragged you over to the laundromat, which, at two thirty on a work day was mostly empty. “You’re going to need to take off your shirt.” You removed the blouse, revealing your gray bra patterned with butterflies. Not one you planned on showing off. He took some detergent, seeming picky about the type he used, then pulled out a couple quarters and threw your blouse in.

“How long?” You asked, hopping up on one of the washers.

“Twenty, thirty minutes?” He leaned against the dryer across from you and gave a small chuckle.

“What?” You crossed your arms over your chest self-consciously.

“We match,” he unbuttoned his shorts and pulled one side down, showing off his white boxers with gray butterflies. You stared at his underwear for a long time before finally busting up laughing.

“Butterflies, huh?” He began laughing too and you two sat there, facing each other and laughing at your matching underwear.

“Not very Queen of Hell,” he finally pointed out, pushing his hair out of his face. It wasn’t gelled up today like it had been at the gala. It was loose and flowy and in his face. You liked it a lot like this.

“Hey, Persephone is also the harbinger of Spring. So technically, the butterflies are very Queen of Hell,” you corrected, pressing your lips together in amusement.

“You’re right,” he agreed. He shot a critical eye over you, scrutinizing almost. It was starting to make you uncomfortable when he finally opened his mouth again. “So what are you? Queen of Hell? Or Princess of the Spring and Summer?”

“Why can’t I be both?” His gaze opened a little and his eyes, grayish in the dimmer light, and he crossed the space, his steps lithe and graceful, stopping just a little short of the machine you were sitting on, his hands resting on either side of your legs.

“So what do I call you then? If you’re both, I can’t keep calling you Queen of Hell.” His voice was softer now, gentler, wrapping around you, and he locked eyes with you, his fingers grazing your knee.

“You can call me by my name.” Your voice was just as soft as his, breathy almost, as you leaned forward. His hand slid a little further up your leg, pushing your skirt up as he did. “Louis…” you breathed, your face only an inch away from his, your breath washing over his face. He shivered, just barely, and his hand tightened on your thigh. You were bolstered by his reaction and you arched down and placed a kiss right at edge of his jaw, that sharp line that you had ached to touch, causing him to let out a low soft moan, take a firm hold of your thigh with one hand and grab the back of your neck with the other. Then he kissed you. Hard.

It was better than you could have ever dreamed. His lips were soft and gentle, yet hard and insistent. Granted, it had been a while since you had kissed anyone, but his kiss seemed better, more important somehow, and you loved it. His hand twisted into the hair at the nape of your neck as you hooked your legs around his waist and held him close. Taking full advantage of the opportunity, you reached around and squeezed his ass—it was as great as you’d thought it would be—which made him bite down on your lower lip.

Unfortunately, your lovely little interlude was cut short by a little old lady walking into the laundromat. Louis stepped back nonchalantly and leaned on the dryer across from you, smiling with his lips pressed tightly together. You leaned back and tried not to laugh as the lady loaded up the washer and then sat in the corner and opened a magazine. Thankfully, your shirt finished only a minute later. You pulled it out of the dryer and were astounded to see how clean it was.

“It worked!” You cried, holding your shirt up in amazement.

“So am I forgiven? Even though this was the second time?” He asked, sliding his hand around your waist. You laughed as you slid your shirt back on and started buttoning back up.

“Forgiven enough to get a second date,” you agreed, laughing.

“How about you call me this time?” He said, pulling you in close again.

“We’ll see,” you said, giving him a cheeky grin. “But I’m not letting you near any liquids. Ever again.” He laughed and finally kissed you again, planting a soft one on your waiting lips.

“So I’ll see you again soon, Your Majesty?” He asked, inclining his head slightly, really just making his mouth closer to yours. You took full advantage of the situation, pressing your lips to his one final time before heading out.

On the way back to your apartment, you finally took your phone out and read El’s texts.

“Do you like him?”

“Dear Christ, you do!

“Y/N?”

“You gotta tell me!”

“THE SUSPENSE!”

“Hey are you gonna kiss him today?”

“Do it”

“kiss him”

“IT IS SO FUN!”

“Ooooo touch his butt”

“Did you?”

“Did you touch his butt?”

Laughing and nearly skipping down the sidewalk, you texted her back quickly: I came, I touched the butt, I conquered.


End file.
